Word: dead
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Dates: during 1910-1919
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...dead, of course, are all now buried, save perhaps a few horses hidden in woods or hollows, but advertising their presence in a most "impossible to be ignored" manner. The roads are lined with dumps of material--shells, grenades, rifle and machine gun amunition, discarded rifles, helmets--everything, in fact, one sees along those roads, though of course it is being rapidly collected by the salvage departments, sorted and sent back to salvage depot for repair, renovation, and reissue--for a use is found for almost everything, no matter how badly smashed and broken...
...front it's even worse, for there there is often no chance to straighten things out--and material lies scattered everywhere, dead horses lie along the roads, often still harnessed to the wagons or caissons they were drawing away, and, worse yet, men, too, sometimes lie unburied for several days. But there is no time, often, for any other course. One fights until he is weary beyond words. He digs trenches and mans them; he carries back the wounded; he breathes poisoned gas and utters more poisonous oaths; he sleeps on and in the ground like a beast; eats what...
...because among the many were not a few of our boys. I left for the front that afternoon, and I do not think I shall ever forget the trip. The Boches were meeting with a very stubborn resistance, and the roads were terrible. I saw men and horses knocked dead ahead of me, and as always, the cross roads were a mark for the 77's and larger German guns. The dead were just dragged to the side of the road. It was blazing hot, and you can well imagine the stench which prevailed with all of those dead...
...German Dead in Piles...
...Boches started to retreat, the sections followed up their divisions. The sights which I saw last Sunday, I shall never forget. In some places the Boche dead were literally piled one on the other. None of them have been buried, and the ground is just scalded by shell fire. I saw one Boche holding on to the trigger of a machine gun, while three yards ahead of him was a dead Frenchman who had fallen flat on his face. He, no doubt, had been killed by this machine gun, and a little later someone had killed this Boche. I hope...